The Family Reunion
by Saint Sayaka
Summary: When Cookie has to visit boyfriend Beau's family, she's left feeling unsettled. But after a transportation mishap lands the two right back into his family's home, will she discover the truth through meat and bathroom breaks? Commission for Amissapanda on Bell Tree Forums. DISCLAIMER - This is a commission and may not reflect my actual interests/beliefs.


"It couldn't have gone that badly."

"His grandmother totally sprinkled her saltlick on me and then said she was surprised I didn't shrivel like a slug."  
Skye shifted in her chair, pulling at her argyle sweater and cradling the phone to her chest. Snow sailed in circuits outside of her window, and she almost envied her friend, who currently resided in the temperate summer woods.

"Okay, so his grandma's batty, airmail. I'm sure the rest of them just loved you. Who couldn't?"

"But that entire event was a huge moment for me, much larger than any audition ever! What if something that happened there changes the course of my life?"

"Okay, Cookie, no offense, but you sound like Diana. All you did was meet Beau's not-so-immediate family. And from what you told me, it sounds like you made a fine impression, airmail."

Cookie twisted her legs uncomfortably. She only had a few minutes left on the pay phone, and she had already used the last of her quarters for a soft drink at a rest stop on the bus ride there. Come to think of it, she hadn't used a bathroom since they were at the aunt's house, and the thought spread flames across her upper legs. There really wasn't much more to say to her friend – thank goodness, the pay phone was right next to the bathroom and its public aura was almost tantalizing – because the inner workings of her heart were just too unclear; she was no poet. And Cookie wasn't upset with Skye, or anything. It was just that her normally spry friend didn't have the advice that she was in search for. She sighed. "Right. Good impression, arfer."

"You have an entire night to get your act together. Stop talking to me, and get a good night's sleep before you overthink things. It'll all be clearer in the morning." She paused, digging a paw into her itchy stomach and searching for another addition to her wealth of one-sentence motivational speeches. Sweat from her open fireplace had made the wool cling to her fur, rendering the sweater unbearably itchy.

Cookie then decided to sound more appreciative. After all, Skye was putting up a decent front against her tirade.

"Oh, Skye, how are you so good at this stuff, arfer? I bet if I were you, everything would be going much better. Wait, that's kind of weird..."

"You're rambling, airmail. It's going to be okay."

If only she could believe that! "Well, I've gotta go, Skye. Thanks for the, er, input."

"No problem", she said confidently, "anytime. Remember – sleep!"

She hung the phone back in its place, almost tempted to make a run for the next bus. But she instead turned in the direction of the coveted bathroom, returning from the chamber only to trot obediently back to her boyfriend. He had since then fallen to the depths of slumber on the bus station's cheap plastic chairs. Saying his name did nothing, and she suddenly felt too tired to shake the lazy deer awake. Had she really been this tired all along? Anxiety had shielded her from the brunt of the weight, but even that wasn't working in Cookie's favor anymore. Her arms hung heavily at her sides, and she clumsily fell into the chair immediate to the deer's right. She could do very little to prevent the incoming waves of sleep, and only the ringing of an incoming bus kept her clinging to consciousness.

"Beau", she yawned lethargically, "Beau. Wake up."

Finally, he tentatively stirred, though he didn't have much of a choice in the matter – the heavy head of a very sleepy dog abruptly landed in his lap.

"Cookie? Why aren't we on the bus?"

"Mmph?"

"Well, it's just…isn't the next bus coming at eleven forty? And it's already thirty eight..."

* * *

"What? Go back?"

Beau sighed, scratching his antlers forlornly. "Well, that was the last bus for the night, saltlick. And we can't just stay in the bus station. I'm sure Aunt Fallow won't mind."

Cookie paced. "And there are no campgrounds around?"

Beau winced, his blush almost traveling the length of his horns. "You know the stigma around a couple staying in a campground together. It's…embarrassing."

"I love your family and all, arfer, but…well, it's just…I don't know if they love me as much."

"Still on that, huh?" He exhaled, trying to put his experiences into words. "Please don't worry, deer. They're just a little shy around strangers. I mean, even when a new kid is born, they're a little distant. It's a weird, deer nature sort of deal. Not to mention that my grandma's a little…well, off. If that's what you're mainly worried about and all. Saltlick?"

"Please don't apologize again!"

"Well, I kind of have to, don't I? She really shouldn't have said those things."

Cookie shook her head. "We can talk about that later, arfer. Right now, let's worry about finding shelter."

"To auntie's house?"

"Right, okay. To your aunt's."

* * *

Well, a room right next to his grandmother's wasn't optimal. On one paw, at least they were sheltered. But the consent shuffling and groaning on the other side of the wall was disconcerting, especially when she had gone out of her way to ensure that the young couple was aware that she was listening in on them. Cookie slept as far away from Beau as she possibly could – not that he would have known. He was lost again to sleep almost the second his head had hit the pillow, but not before ingesting yet another alfalfa cube on his aunt's insistence. Aunt Fallow had been, as Beau had predicted, surprisingly sympathetic to their situation, and it took a few minutes of assurance to prevent the homely doe from making the two a full course meal ("A midnight snack!" she had insisted) right in her slippers and robe. The taste of dried plant didn't seem to be leaving Cookie's mouth any time soon, and she didn't have the heart to tell the vegetarian family of her carnivorous practices. She gagged, to the response of a "mysterious" cough from the opposing wall. And yet again, Cookie had to use the bathroom. Maybe it was a stress thing.

She fumbled her way through the dark room, unwilling to turn on the table lamp for fear of waking the comfortable Beau. He probably wouldn't have so much as stirred, but she was too kind, as she so graciously reminded herself as she went flying over a misplaced magazine rack. The sound reverberated. Cookie could have sworn that she heard a laugh but decided to not jump to conclusions, raking the wall for the door until she hit the knob. Now to not fall over the banister to her immediate death.

The hoof shot out of nowhere, and her animalistic instincts were caught in an impasse between a scream and bark, resulting in a mangled moan that somehow did not scare of her attacker. A pair of beady eyes emerged from the backdrop of grey obscurity, and she soon realized who it was.

"Miss Dewie?"

"Goodness, Cookie. Close your mouth. It's impolite to gape."

Was his grandmother waiting for the bathroom as well? "Sorry if I woke you, arfer. I was just on my way to the bathroom."

"How coincidental. So was I."

"You should go before me."

Grandma Dewie narrowed her eyes. "Again," she said tightly, "what a coincidence. I was going to say the same thing."

"Oh, um, okay." That was what she was supposed to say, right? Cookie felt as if she was digging herself into an even deeper hole with the decrepit doe.

Several awkward moments of bathroom time later, Cookie had begun to inch her way back into the room when the same pair of cloven hooves gripped her arm. Skye's simple advice of "sleep!" echoed in her subconscious.

"Come," was all the older deer spared.

She felt herself lead down the dark staircase as if the aged hooves had traversed these stairs for years, and it suddenly occurred to Cookie that it was quite possible that this was Dewie's home as well. Bright overhead lights hung in the horizon of a thin hallway, and she was lead through the living room to a tight kitchen and even narrower dining room, all interconnected by a slick wooden floor Cookie's claws had a hard time balancing on. She shielded her eyes.

Cookie was suddenly aware that she was no longer holding onto the thin hand of Dewie. A dull rectangular light appeared and disappeared almost as quickly as it had opened, and she was suddenly aware of a greasy paper plate in her hand.

"Raccoon meat," grandmother explained before Cookie had the chance to ask, "Obviously never sentient."

"How did you…?"

"You're a carnivorous animal visiting a plant eating family. It wasn't hard for me to put two and two together, even if the rest of my family wasn't spared the same grace." She shifted. "What are you talking to me for? Eat, before someone hears us and discovers this little secret. They'd have a heart attack if they knew I had stored that so close to their daily food. And let's just say it wasn't easy getting that."

Cookie chewed just as softly as she swallowed, trying to stay true to Dewie's request for silence, but their pact was broken soon by the grandmother's inquiring voice. "I want a straight answer to this, none of your cutesy hemming and hawing. Why did you choke down my daughter's alfalfa cubes, and for that matter, that entire dinner she made us?"

Cookie sneezed, wiping her nose. Really, she was just taking the few seconds to come up with a coherent answer.

"It just seemed rude not to, arfer."

"So out of politeness?"

"Yes, I would say."

The grandmother paced back and forth, wearing a trench into her slippers. "Next question. Why didn't you say anything to me all of today?"

"I don't really get what you're saying. Sorry, arfer."

"All those nasty things I said, you practically laid down at my hooves like a fuzzy doormat."

"Thanks?"

"That's not a good thing! Why did you let that happen to you?"

"I didn't want to make a scene", Cookie replied innocently. Meat dribbled down her chin, and she discreetly exiled it with a swipe of her paw. The grandmother absentmindedly handed her a towel, engrossed in her response.

"How can I trust someone with my little Beau if I can't even trust them with themselves?"

Ah. So this was the heart of problem, Cookie reasoned as she took a mouthful of the raccoon bone. The reason behind all of this woman's quirky mind games and idiosyncrasies. Still, the answer had taken her aback – it was a fair point, after all. She mulled over her remaining scraps.

"I don't really think I have an answer for that, miss. But do you think we can work out some sort of deal, arfer?"

She lifted her head, leaning on the counter. "Now it's my turn to be confused. How ironic."

"Well, let's see. I promise to work on bettering my confidence, and we stop being so tense and become friends, arfer! How does that sound?"

"If it were any other time than two AM, I'd probably laugh. This time of night makes my head fuzzy, so I'm sure it's why I'm saying this, but you know what? You have a deal."

Cookie beamed, squeezing her plate slightly in her excitement. "Great! I bet it'll make Beau very happy to see this."

"Right. Well, anything for little Beau." But the concealed smile on her face, wrinkled and dotted with genuine contentment, hinted that she was perhaps doing it for more than Beau.

Cookie turned to the trash – her eyes had adjusted considerably to the bright lights – and back around. "So, miss.  
Shall we go back to bed?" She held out her arm in a gesture of good will, and the deer tentatively took hold.

"Yes. But mention this to no one, lest the family stop fearing me", she responded in a mostly joking tone. Mostly.

And as the two rounded the spiral staircase, Cookie found herself thinking that perhaps the family reunion wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
